


Constellations

by godgaypeen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Raphael!Crowley, angst WOOHOO, angst angst angst, based on a rather lovely good omens fanart, i cried while writing this shut up, plus the wonderfully angsty AF Talented Horny Whores gc, the kind of angst that makes you want to cry, yes thats the name of the gc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 05:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godgaypeen/pseuds/godgaypeen
Summary: Like angels, demons have a unique distinctive detail that separates them from each other. This includes the (reluctant) demon Crowley, but it isn't his serpentine eyes like Aziraphale thought it was.





	Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, here, let me credit the cool people who helped bring this little fic to life: vulcansketch on twitter, who posted a beautiful pre-Fall Crowley piece that started this whole thing, and a few members of the 'Talented Horny Whores' group chat (yes, I'm crediting yall, I love you guys) who began to construct a little story, which I'm really happy to write for yall.
> 
> Oh, here's the link to the tweet if you want to see what I mean: https://twitter.com/vulcansketch/status/1153496353424756736

Like human fingerprints, angels have a certain unique characteristic that is exclusive to each celestial being; some have what they might call a ‘golden detail’, specks of gold that adorned their vessel’s skin, and some have peculiar eye colours, colours that exist outside of the normal human blue or green or brown. For example, the angel Uriel’s golden detail ran down from their forehead and stops just above the upper lip before continuing down to the chin, while archangel Gabriel had deep purple eyes, such a beautiful, rich shade of purple that made it impossible to look away from an equally beautiful angel.  
  
Inversely, demons, too, have something that discerns them from the other. Granted, their unique detail was not nearly as breath-taking as the angels, and certainly not as unnoticeable as human fingerprints, but it was special all the same. As special as flies and near-grey skin could get, supposedly.  
  
The food-loving, bowtie-wearing angel Aziraphale had a golden detail of his own too; a smattering of gold upon his left thigh, almost like glitter to the human eye; he’s had to explain in a rather awkward situation wherein he had forgotten to cover it up with a little angelic miracle, and a male human lover had asked him about it before they began… erm, _copulation_. He had assumed that bright yellow serpentine slits for eyes were the demon Crowley’s demonic detail, and the subject never came up within 6000 years of friendship (well, he hadn’t exactly thought of him as a friend up until recently, but it was some sort of love-hate, frenemies, rivalry/relationship regardless), so he thought it was the one conversation he needn’t start.  
  
Of course, when he was in the bookshop with the demon on his right thigh and they had been making out to the point where both of them were breathing rather heavily, and his own cheeks were flushed red, and oh, Crowley’s very talented lips were swollen, Aziraphale did expect for them to lose their clothes at some point in the night (and lose their clothes they did!). He had just unbuttoned Crowley’s dark grey shirt and slipped it off his shoulder when an almost-familiar pattern of white lines on Crowley’s shoulder caught his eye, a frown creasing his forehead. This did not go unnoticed by the panting demon, and he asked the angel if everything was alright.  
  
“Hm?” He looked away, gulping as he locked eyes with his demon lover (boyfriend? They weren’t boys but they were definitely friends, another thing to ask him later on). There was no use pretending he wasn’t just caught staring at Crowley’s shoulder, so he confessed. “I… I noticed that you have a-a sort of mark on your shoulder, I’m just curious about it, that’s all.”  
  
Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he had overstepped his boundaries, but from the way Crowley began to distance himself from the angel, he was fairly certain that he did. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t w-”  
  
“No, no, it’s alright.” Crowley shook his head quickly, letting out a shaky laugh. “I, erm, it-it’s embarrassing, really, I knew this day would come since that night at the bookshop after t-the whole Armageddon situation-”  
  
“Armageddon’t!” Aziraphale chimed in, looking pleased with himself for such a well-timed pun. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”  
  
“Right.” He nodded before continuing. “I just didn’t know what to do about it.”  
  
Aziraphale wasn’t quite following, but he could tell it was something rather important to Crowley. “About what, Crowley?”  
  
“I think it’s better if I showed you.” Crowley got up from his previous position, the rather tall demon straightening up before turning on the spot, and what Aziraphale saw on Crowley’s bareback made him let out a small gasp of astonishment. The angel stood and inched closer to the demon, a hesitant hand rising to touch Crowley’s cool skin.  
  
Thin, white lines marked the red-haired demon’s skin, long and short slashes connected to tiny dots that made it look like- “ _Stars_.” Aziraphale murmured, a finger lightly tracing one of the larger patterns, Crowley tensing up under his touch before relaxing slightly. He could trust the angel, after all.  
  
“Constellations, actually,” Crowley spoke up, his head hung low at the memory of how he got those scars, the pain he felt as each mark burned his skin as he Fell, turning the previously golden patterns into harsh, ugly scars, raised lines and bumps that made his back look almost disfigured, as if he was the goddamn Phantom of the Opera (if the Phantom had a back-related disfigurement, of course). “They’re constellations.”  
  
“Y-Yes, I recognize some of these… I- I can’t remember where I saw them, perhaps at the planetarium or something.” He nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, but he couldn’t name any of them, not off the top of his head. Crowley was the one who was unendingly enthusiastic about space; always tottering on and on about the planets he’d been to, and the stars he helped make. “An angel I once knew showed them to me… I never knew what had happened to that angel, I- I assumed that we simply didn’t cross paths ever since, not in Heaven or on Earth.”  
  
Aziraphale moved away from the tall demon, who turned to look at the angel with deep sorrow in his eyes, the kind that made him wish to wrap his arms around him and never let go, not even for a second. He couldn’t imagine what unspeakable pain he had been through during the Fall, the misery he felt when the one home he knew turned him away, banished for a crime he didn’t even want to commit. “Were you the one who made them, Crowley?”  
  
Crowley inhaled deeply and bit his bottom lip, and Aziraphale could’ve sworn that the demon looked as if he was about to tear up. “You said you recognized them, Aziraphale. Think. You’ve got to remember.” He spoke, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation, but then he added in a soft voice, “Please.”  
  
“I don’t remember- no, I- I _can’t_ remember- why can’t I remember?” Aziraphale asked frustratedly. It was rather unlike him to forget something as remarkable as constellations, especially how beautiful they looked from afar, all twinkling like fairy lights. Unable to come up with an answer, he looked at Crowley almost pleadingly, asking him to explain.  
  
“Have you ever heard of the angel Raphael?”  
  
Not quite knowing why would Crowley mention an angel he only ever knew stories about, he answered with a confused ‘Yes’. “Raphael was the one who went missing, he disappeared after the Fall, and no one knew of his whereabouts ever since.” Aziraphale continued, his limited knowledge of the angel coming from stories told in hushed whispers. Gabriel never talked about him before, anyway, so he, like every other angel, assumed that Raphael was another casualty from the Fall.  
  
“Alright, and did you know what Raphael did before the Fall?” Crowley questioned, his expressions unreadable.  
  
“Well, yes, I believe he was the angel in charge of space, hanging moons and arranging the stars-” It took a moment for Aziraphale to recall, and realization dawned on him halfway through his sentence, his mouth slightly dropping open as he made the connections between Crowley and the previously missing Raphael. “It was you?”  
  
Crowley exaggeratedly bowed in response. “The one and only.”  
  
This only made the angel even more confused. “You’re Raphael? But… t-they said you were _gone,_ and-and Gabriel, Michael, they’ve all seen you before, how could they- how could I not recognize you?”  
  
Crowley smiled bitterly, moving away to pick up his shirt. “One of God’s more cruel punishments, I suppose.” He replied, pulling the shirt on and buttoning it up. _He was leaving, why was he leaving?_ Aziraphale wanted to know more about this whole new side of Crowley, to discover the truth about Raphael, but he knew that if he pushed harder, to step closer into uncharted territory, Crowley would only push him away. So when the demon left the bookshop and the door closed behind him with a slam, Aziraphale knew it was for the best.

  
-

  
A whole week had passed since that night in the bookshop, and Aziraphale felt absolutely miserable without Crowley. His immense unhappiness made it easier for him to lock up the shop for days at a time, and when he did open the shop, he let the customers buy a couple of the books that he wouldn’t miss. He nearly sold his first edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice for much less than its worth, but thankfully he snapped out of it and made up an excuse not to sell it to the otherwise rather prospective woman.  
  
This type of behaviour was why Aziraphale had sought out the missing Crowley, unable to bear the thought of accidentally selling his beloved books due to him being worried about his friend (boyfriend? Again, he wasn’t quite clear on the labels that explain their relationship). The demon didn’t bother to contact him, he wasn’t in his flat, it was as if he had vanished completely off the grid, leaving Aziraphale to wonder where he had gone off to.  
  
Well, once he had ascertained the whereabouts by asking Anathema Device (who, coincidentally, had gone to the planetarium with young Newton Pulsifer and the Them the day before), he found himself in a small theatre, where the staff would put on a 3D show on the screen, which was shaped like an enormous dome. There was only one other person in the room; he was seated in the front row, who turned to look at him upon his entrance.  
  
“I see you found me,” Crowley spoke up as Aziraphale walked over to where the demon was. “That witch girl told you, didn’t she?”  
  
Nodding, Aziraphale sat down in the seat next to Crowley. “Crowley, are you avoiding me?”  
  
Crowley shook his head. “I’m not avoiding you, rather… I’m avoiding my past. I couldn’t handle the fact that you now know that I’m Raphael.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me? After all this time, after what we’ve been through, you still didn’t tell me.” He pressed on, trying to figure out the reason why Crowley never trusted him with the secret.  
  
“It’s because you didn’t remember. I remembered every single detail, every single memory of us before the Fall, but you didn’t, you didn’t even know who I was when we met at the Garden after I… after I Fell. I didn’t want to tell you until I was absolutely sure.” Crowley explained.  
  
“Sure about what? If I was to be trusted?” Aziraphale asked, a hurt look crossing his face briefly before disappearing, his doubts swatted away from his mind like a fly, replaced by a hot flash of anger. “6000 years wasn’t enough for you to trust me?”  
  
“No, not that. I needed to be sure that you loved me for me, not the angel I used to be.”

 _Oh._  
  
Aziraphale could feel his heart shatter to the floor into a million pieces, his dreadfully wrong misconception of Crowley’s reasoning like a slap to the face. “I didn’t want you to clutch onto a fading memory and seeing someone else that you once knew when you look at me. It would’ve broken me.”  
  
“Oh, Crowley, I- I didn’t know…”  
  
The demon merely offered a sad smile, placing his hand on top of Aziraphale’s. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Who I used to be and who I am now, it’s as if I were two different people.”  
  
“I love you, Crowley.” Aziraphale murmured as a form of reassurance.  
  
“I know, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, yes, I used the devastating "Oh". Time to cry!


End file.
